


Aww electricity, no

by Bill_Longbow



Series: Tony Stark bingo [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Author knows nothing about ASL, Charades, Deaf Clint Barton, Getting Together, M/M, This is more like comic Clint than MCU Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: When Clint gets trapped in an elevator it might not be such a bad thing with this gorgeous stranger.





	Aww electricity, no

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the Tony Stark Bingo "Datenight" and I used this additional prompt from a prompt generator I found so long ago I can no longer find the link to it (sorry prompt maker!): I don't have my hearing aids in and you don't speak sign language and now we're stuck in this elevator. Your miming is very funny and adorable though.
> 
> Betad by the wonderful [Justanotherpipedream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherpipedream/), thank you!

 

Ugh. Who even does that? In winter? He's absolutely drenched on one side because of that asshat who drove by full speed through a puddle of ice water. Through sheer force of will, he's managing to keep his teeth from chattering while he squelches his way across the lobby.

Thank goodness there's an elevator waiting and he pushes the button for the 34th floor. The doors close and he lets out a relieved sigh, happy to check on his stuff now that some feeling is returning to his fingers. His phone is on the drenched side, and he tries to shake some life into it when fingers appear between the doors, prompting them to open again at the last possible moment.

He bites back a sigh, he was so close to warmth and coffee. The stranger shoots him an apologetic smile and he revises his whining. Dang, that is one fine looking man, with huge, brown eyes and fluffy looking dark hair, flattened a bit against his head with snow. He smiles back and steps a bit to the side to give the other some room.

The stranger says something while he pushes the button for his floor, probably in greeting or as an apology, so Clint smiles back politely when the man turns around again, and goes back to shaking his phone as the doors finally close.

He's rummaging through his shopping bag to see if the bread is still salvageable when the lift stutters and everything goes dark. Aww, electricity, no. It takes a few seconds before the emergency lighting kicks in, but when it does their space is bathed in a horrid red glow.

The stranger speaks again, but the lighting is too dim now to make out his lips well enough to read them. Clint shrugs and points at his ear with a ‘dunno expression’ on his face. He doesn't always put his hearing aides in when he goes shopping, especially now with the stores and shoppers in a holiday frenzy. Of course he would get trapped with a stranger he'd like to hump without his aides in.

The man narrows his eyes at him, then points at his own ears and shakes his head, face scrunched in question.

Clint shakes his head and signs “sorry”. He might be lucky and this guy knows ASL? No cigar, the man doesn't react at all.

The man turns and tries to call the operator, but going by his chagrined expression they don't have good news for him. With an exaggerated sigh the man puts his bag on the floor and flops down next to it.

Clint isn't one to be easily overwhelmed, but a gorgeous man staring at him from the floor does things to him. Clint gives up on checking his groceries. The frozen vegetables will now probably ruin what wasn't wet already anyway. He sits down next to the man and points at himself. “I'm Clint,” he tells the man, who looks surprised but quickly answers.

Clint shakes his head, and points at his ears again. “Wasn't born deaf.” He hopes that the man understands why he can speak but not hear, and by the calculating look and nod it seems that he does.

The man points at his lips, which are a good pair of lips if anyone asks Clint - he’s developed a special interest in them - and does something with his hand, opening and closing it rapidly, then pointing at Clint. The questioning look the man sends him is so genuine it makes him smile, but he has to shrug. “No idea,” he answers.

This doesn’t deter the man, he points at himself, then shuffles closer, very close, close enough to kiss and isn’t that a nice notion. No, bad. No kissing random strangers anymore. It takes a second for Clint to register the man’s mouth moving. “Oo-y?” The man’s smile is like a ray of sun, he nods frantically and mouths his name again. Tony!

“Hi, Tony, I’m Clint,” he smiles. This might not be so bad. What’s a few ruined peas if you gain a Tony?

Tony waves and sits back down again at a more socially accepted distance. Clint can almost see the gears turning in his head as he's looking for ways to communicate. There's a lightbulb moment where he makes the universal phone sign, but he slumps back against the elevator wall when Clint shows him his, still dripping water.

Yours? Clint points at Tony, but he apparently left his in his apartment, if Clint interprets the chagrined pointing upwards right.

Tony sits biting his lower lip as he thinks, and Clint kinda wishes he stopped doing that, it's distracting. Not that he himself is any good at making non verbal conversation, not with his mind being bent on focussing on all kinds of inappropriate thoughts about his conversation partner.

“You live here?” He asks in a bid to derail his thoughts from their current track.

Tony nods and holds up four fingers with one hard and two fingers with other.

“Forty second floor?”

Another nod. No wonder Clint has never met him before.

Tony points at Clint with a questioning glance.

“Thirty fourth.”

Tony nods in reply. Suddenly his face gets animated again and he sits up straight.

He points at Clint, then at his head and does the gesture of a curvy woman, mouthing something. Clint leans forward to better see Tony's mouth. A asa? Tony holds one hand in front of his mouth likes he's very scared, then mouths a ta a.

Oh! “Natasha! Yeah, I know Natasha. Don't worry, she scares everyone,” he jokes.

Tony's grin makes Clint’s heart beat a bit faster.

“How do you know Nat?”

It feels unfair that Clint can just talk and Tony has to resort to playing charades, but Clint would be lying if he didn't enjoy the hell out of himself right now.

Tony takes his time to think about his reply. He puts on a tired face, rubbing his eyes with both hands, then pretends he's drinking something and suddenly his face is lively.

“You met in the coffeeshop?”

Tony nods enthusiastically and even gives Clint a thumbs up.

“You're good at this, I'd like to see you perform Hamlet,” Clint grins.

Tony starts talking in reply, realises what he's doing and thumbs the flat of his hand at his forehead. Then he makes a gesture that has Clint's heart skip a beat. It's a clumsy attempt, but Clint is sure Tony just signed “sorry” at him. Which means he has been paying more attention to him than Clint thought.

He signs “that's okay,” while saying it, Tony watching him like a hawk, and if that isn't the most attractive thing ever Clint doesn't know what is.

When Tony tries to copy the movement he accidentally signs something very rude, and Clint takes a chance. He reaches out to fold Tony's fingers in the appropriate gesture, maybe holding on to his fingers a bit longer than strictly necessary. They are nice fingers though, so who can blame him. No one, that's who. Tony doesn't, Tony smiles at him and doesn't pull away and the moment lingers and something seems to build between them until suddenly they're bathed in a blinding light and the elevator starts to jolt and move.

Really elevator people? Now??

They sit apart a bit, smiling awkwardly at each other before standing up. All too soon they reach Clint's floor and he's grappling for something to say. Something witty maybe, but his brain refuses to produce anything other than “bye,” and “see you around.”

He watches Tony nod and smile, and even do a little wave until the elevator doors close between them.

Damn.

  
  


It takes only two days of groveling and promising to help tidy Nat’s monster of a walk-in closet to makes her give Tony’s exact address. Clint might’ve tried to go to Tony’s floor and casually walk past all the doors in search for a T dot surname, but the only T living on Tony’s floor was called Odinson and Clint didn’t think it was very likely Tony was called that.  

After he has the address, it takes him an additional three days to work up the courage to actually go and visit Tony, and then another two days to come up with a back up plan when Tony isn’t home.

So it’s a week later when he’s there again to tack a bright purple post it with a silly doodle of Hamlet ( _with_ skull), his number and his name, to Tony’s door. He’s quite proud of the drawing, he even managed to give Hamlet a thoughtful frown, and with a smile he pats it and turns around to see Tony coming at him from the elevator. His first instinct is to hide, which is silly, because he’s here for the sole purpose of meeting this man properly, but his memory and fantasy have done a poor job in recreating the sheer handsomeness that is Tony in proper lighting.

As soon as Tony sees Clint he smiles widely. A genuine pleased smile, and Clint is a goner. No mere mortal is resistant against a smile like that, Nat can roll her eyes all she likes.

“Hi,” Clint smiles back, pointing at his ears.

Tony smiles even wider at that. “You can hear me?” He steps a bit closer to inspect one of Clint’s ears like it’s the most natural thing to do when meeting someone, but then holds out his hand. “Tony Stark, nice to meet you, Clint.”

Tony’s grip is strong and sure, just how Clint imagined it to be, and his voice melodious and warm like… like molten chocolate. Clint internally frowns at himself and this sudden need for bad poetry and shifts his attention to Tony who's hand he's still holding and who is waiting for him to answer.

“Hi,” he replies eloquently, letting go of Tony's hand to rub the back of his neck, grinning slightly.

“I err,” he starts at the same time Tony's gaze falls on the post it and he exclaims “you made me art!”

Tony reaches around Clint to pull the note from the door. “Is this you? Why are you holding a turd?” He asks with his face scrunched in confusion.

“That's not a.. nevermind, I was hoping… since being cooped up with you in the elevator was nicer than the last date I've been on, don't ask, I was wondering if maybe you would go with me on an actual one?” Clint puts his hands in his pockets as he speaks, to keep them from fidgeting, but decides mid-speech that you don’t ask someone out with your hands in your pockets, so he takes them out and fiddles with the hem of his shirt instead.

“No turds?” Tony asks and he looks mischievous, with these twinkles in his eyes and his mouth curved a bit and wow, Clint is really reaching out of his league with this one.

“I was thinking pizza, but whatever floats your boat,” he answers with a grin.

Tony’s laugh sounds even better than it looks.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://bill-longbow.tumblr.com) or join us on the 16+ [ Stuckony discord server ](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) for all things Tony, Bucky and Steve!
> 
> It's my first ever Clint/Tony fic, so please leave some notes to tell me how I've done!


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